


In Which Dirk and James Take Way Too Long to Figure Things Out

by I_write_therefore_I_am



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Guilt, M/M, Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 17:24:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_write_therefore_I_am/pseuds/I_write_therefore_I_am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively titled: in which no one has the balls to make the first move</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Dirk and James Take Way Too Long to Figure Things Out

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry, there's some fun stuff mixed in with the backstory-telling.

You've never met a man quite like him. He's loud, crass, rude, and doubtless born in a slum (he's a self-made man, he said so himself, but you're suspicious of just how he got his fortune), but you simply can't get him off your mind.  
He is the older brother of your son's best friend. And as with all of the parents/guardians of John's friends, you invited him to stay and chat for a while on one of Dave's many visits. At first you didn't like the cut of his jib at all, but over time you suppose he grew on you. He had a certain charm about him, despite his poor manners. Even his habit of calling you Jim when you insisted upon James is sort of endearing, not that you'd like to let him know that.  
At a point, he began showing up unprompted. The two of you got into a habit of having a drink or two together, taking turns providing the drinks in question. At first you were a little appalled by his habit of slugging your good scotch like cheap tequila, but eventually that too became endearing. And of course, he taught you that cheap tequila can be excellent under the right conditions.  
You generally don't like drinking too much (the headaches it gives you the morning after are a force to be reckoned with), but you eventually gave in to his competitive nature. He drank you under the table on several occasions. Figuratively speaking. From what you can recall, he was usually the one under the table.  
Which brings you to where you are now. Simply the memory of his mouth on you and his fingers wandering where you'd never thought to touch is enough to make your face flush and your eyes glaze over. You've never been interested in other men before, but his efforts have gone surprisingly far to change that. You ache for him. Again and again you've tried to recreate the feeling of him pleasuring you.  
Tonight is your first time using any kind of toy. It's a simple bullet vibrator, nothing fancy. The thought of having him take you is one you can't shake. He's without a doubt bigger than your fingers, and you suspect that he might actually be rather impressive in terms of size (you can't tell if the memories you have of him making a show of touching himself for you came from a drunken stupor or a dream).  
As with everything, you have a fairly steady routine for manners such as this. Naturally, you double-check to make sure that John is good and gone (sometimes he changes plans at the last minute, and you really wouldn't want to embarrass yourself). You take off your clothes and fold them neatly, so that later on ironing them will be less of a chore. Then, of course, you begin. You imagine his hands all over you, his mouth on you, his fingers inside you. And after a bit, you work the vibrator in. It's a tight fit and being stretched stings a bit, but once you turn it on you quickly forget about the discomfort. You find that one spot you've grown to love, and you're lost. You finish quite quickly with his name on your lips.  
Regret hits first in the form of embarrassment. You'd finished in minutes and sounded like a whore while you did. It would seem that he doesn't even have to be there to drive you mad; simply the memory of him would do the trick. Then, inevitably, comes the guilt. Dirk is Dave's older brother. He's the older brother of your son's best friend, who you're quite sure had become more than just a friend (as much as John tries to hide things from you, you don't miss much). That situation could become, to say the least, awkward. And beyond that, there's an age difference to consider. You're not quite forty, but you're getting there. Dirk insists that he's twenty-five, but you're not sure you believe him. He doesn't look a tick of the clock over eighteen. And beyond that, you have no idea why he started his drunken pursuits in the first place. He seems like the type who could very well just be in it for kicks, but he's a hard one to read. He hasn't shown a lick of interest in any kind of relationship while you're both sober. You suppose you should ask him what exactly he means by all this, but you're afraid that if you mention it, he'll stop. And God knows that's the last thing you want.


End file.
